


[Translation] "Love"

by lysanding



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Step-parents, oedipus complex, translator's tags:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanding/pseuds/lysanding
Summary: Yoon Jeonghan is four years older than me. He is my mortal enemy, my secret lover, and my beloved step-mother.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Kim Mingyu/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	[Translation] "Love"

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [“爱”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132689) by [10baby04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10baby04/pseuds/10baby04). 



> Hello this is my first translation~ I look forward to doing more of these for the fandom because there's a lot of good chinese fic out there! Even though I clicked on this one out of thirst but after reading I was _parched_ so I had to share and drag you all down with me.

# Love

“Hannie,” I wrapped my arms around his waist. I could feel that he was wearing nothing underneath “Lets do it.”

“No,” Jeonghan replied, expression bland as if he was merely telling me the foods he didn’t like to eat. My palm slinked under his shirt, skating up his ribs one by one until it rested on his chest. Without looking, I knew his face was flushed a pretty pink that was darkening by the second, blossoming across his pale skin.

“No — “ He pushed my hand out, “Gyu-ah, your father is going to come home soon. If you want to do it, it’s better to wait until he’s on a business trip, okay?”

The whole time his other hand was diligently stirring a pot of noodles, the family dinner tonight. He was still acting the role of the “perfect wife”, using placating and sensible words to dutifully brush me off. The aroma of the starchy water mixed with his scent made me want to gag.

“Don’t be like that,” I caged Jeonghan with my arms, dropping my head to bite his earlobe, “Muumm~” I whined, dragging my voice and slurring my tones.

I didn’t need to move my hand lower. I could tell he was already hard.

* * *

Yoon Jeonghan is four years older than me. He is my mortal enemy, my secret lover, and my beloved step-mother. Less than a year after my birth mother passed away, Choi Seungcheol openly married him into the family with much ceremony and fanfare. It was an open secret that the president of Choi Corporations always kept a man on the side — it seems like the only place where it actually felt like a secret was inside our own household.

It is commonly said, if setting aside the fact he preferred male lovers, Choi Seungcheol was perfect. Absurdly successful, devastatingly good-looking, and courteous to a fault.

That’s a fucking joke.

Our father drinks all night every night and won’t even bother coming home.

He didn’t always used to be like this. He would seem gloomy and down but he wasn’t bad, making some effort to be a father to Wonwoo and I, and to baby Chan. Seungcheol would even tell us stories about Mum, how they were married because of business and convenience, and how he felt he didn’t do enough for her. I supposed we cannot entirely cast him responsible for her suicide. We all knew she had post-natal depression.

When he spoke of her, Seungcheol’s eyelashes would tremble, as if tears would fall from them in the next second. But we all knew that tears would not fall.

When I was young, I was less discerning and freely let my mouth say whatever my brain thought. Wonu and I formed a dichotomy. He wore glasses and loved reading, so I teased him endlessly to be a bookworm. I just wanted to grow up quickly. If this useless father of ours ever tries to hit us, I want to be ready to punch him back. So when Wonu turned to books, I only had an interest in body-building and exercising.

When I was young I told Seungcheol this:

_Dad, if you cared about mum a bit more, she wouldn’t be so sad._

The smile had frozen on Choi Seungcheol’s face, and he gazed at me for a long time without a single emotion passing through his eyes.

I only found out afterwards.

At that time he was already seeing Yoon Jeonghan. Even before my mother has passed away.

* * *

My favourite look on Yoon Jeonghan is his panicked face when I press him down onto the bed and kiss him. It would flicker on for the briefest second before he is able to school it into something cool and restrained.

When Jeonghan first arrived, we all hated him and would spend every chance teasing and sniping with snarky comments and small pranks that would not be noticed by Seungcheol.

Jeonghan’s serene expression never slipped. He would sit there, back straight and posture proper, wrapped in a wool coat with a high collar wrapping around his delicate neck.

Ah, but right now I am in love with teasing his lips instead, kissing them again and again until they were as red as blood. How he had fallen.

“Mum, I love you a lot,” I whispered into his ear. I was fucking him on the same bed that he and Choi Seungcheol made love on, endlessly twisting the pristine sheets with his writhing and my thrusting. The way he panted was like a rose — normally he is a white rose, but in bed he is a red rose that blossoms with colour under my flesh. This is the virtue heaven has blessed him with. Even if he wore the plainest, most unattractive clothing, or narrowed his face into the iciest expression, people would still be enticed by him. When he raised his head at looked at you, his eyes were round and watery, full of pure innocence and warm tenderness. Anyone who was caught by that gaze even once would be overwhelmed by a lust to strip him bare and take him to bed.

“You were born to be fucked,” I told him as I entered his hole. His eyes were tightly closed and the only thing he could do is clamp his teeth onto my shoulder. As I ground into him I couldn’t help but spit out any sharp phrase that could make him react.

“Why are you pretending to be a virgin,” I forced his neck to arch, “Mum, look, you’re making love to your son. Isn’t this disgraceful?”

I watched his body jerk with every thrust, then slowly, he opened his eyes, tilting his head to peer at me in same cool, untouchable way as when he first arrived and was onslaught with our animosity.

“It. Makes my blood run cold,” he gasped.

I knew he was talking about Choi Seungcheol, my father, and how similar he found us. Deliriously, I realised this similarity extended to the act of sex. Like a dog in heat I snarled and bit him. Jeonghan deserved it because he knew talking about Seungcheol would provoke me, rile me up like nothing else and turn me into a roaring lion, ready to maul without reason.

* * *

We made love countless times, but I cannot say the word _love_ to him. Only at the moment of orgasm would it bubble and burst out of me.

“Mum, mum, I love you mum,” I would babble. Jeonghan’s whole body would seize and all he could do is frantically nod his head. Often, my tears will drop onto his abdomen and mix with our seed. Pitiful tears, pitiful seed, pitiful love. All of them will never arrive the place they were meant for.

After sex he would not move, lying on the bed with his eyes closed as peaceful as the dead. Maybe he didn’t want to look at me and remind himself of what we just did.

I gazed at his sweat-soaked hair, his nose, his slightly swollen lips and his beautiful, perfect face. Before meeting him, I thought I was good looking. But after seeing Yoon Jeonghan, I realised there’s a difference between being beautiful and being handsome. I’m simply handsome, but Jeonghan’s kind of beautiful is otherworldly, celestial, and ethereal. There is not a single person on earth who can compare. When he’s begging you to fuck him, it seems to flow out of him like a natural stream, full of raw desire and effervescent sensuality.

Ah, this is my mum, whose perfection transcends mortality.

“Your father, when does he come home?” Jeonghan asked.

“In half an hour,” I looked down at my palm. I felt a little guilty for being unable to hold back my words when I come, “Let me help you wash up.”

“No need, I’ll do it myself.” His rejection was flat as he picked up his clothes from the ground. He found a pair of my jeans and studied it for a long time. “You used too much force, there’s a tear here that needs to be mended.”

He really is like a mother, speaking like that.

Jeonghan walked to the bathroom then paused, “Did you turn off the stove earlier?” he asked with an exhausted tone. Without waiting for my answer, he swiftly closed the door.

Well then.

I closed my eyes and remembered about his pale body, arched and writhing beneath me. Despite my passion, I held back and left no trace because I was afraid Seungcheol would find out. After all, it would be Jeonghan who will suffer the most.

This entire situation simultaneously excited and destroyed me. I was filled to the brim with so much emotion the buried secrecy of it all tortured me, festering like an internal wound.

* * *

I used to have a habit of peeping, stealthily watching Choi Seungcheol make love to Yoon Jeonghan. It was always in the middle of the night, after the kids have went to bed. I could hear the soft sound of Jeonghan’s voice drifting into the silence of our house.

I wonder how a man can make love to another man?

When I crept to the gap in the door, I did not think about what I could be seeing. I witnessed Choi Seungcheol’s cock entering Yoon Jeonghan’s flesh. Seungcheol put on an arrogant performance, plunging his manhood mercilessly and quickly kissing away every split tear before it could stain.

Watching them made me hard but for some reason it also made me cry, so I smothered my mouth and continued to observe in silence. At that time I thought the scene looked noble and sacred. Despite their shameful love, Yoon Jeonghan was like an god in heaven he was being fucked. No matter how many people entered him he could not be defiled.

The first time I myself entered Jeonghan, I was struck breathless by the tight heat around me, but immediately I was struck by the realisation I had become Oedipus. Before the connotations and associations rushed in, I pushed the notion away. That was a thought, but regardless, he was not my real mother.

Because it was my first time, I got too excited and before I knew it, I had already come inside. But he didn’t even try to scold me. He sat up and gently teased me to be still a child. At that time I grew angry but now I miss that memory very much. He never talked to me again.

Every day, every morning when the family is together I always have to pretend to be the aloof, uncaring Kim Mingyu, the handsome son Kim Mingyu and the elder brother Kim Mingyu who sweeps Lee Chan in with his mischief.

I can only keep my head down and push rice into my mouth. Otherwise I would be watching Jeonghan in the kitchen cooking for us, in the laundry washing for us, or in the hallway lovingly kissing Choi Seungcheol before he leaves for work..

It’s always Choi Seungcheol who pushes him away first, speaking in a low voice, “The kids are right there.”

“The kids are still small,” Jeonghan would smile. I could guess at how his eyes looked, twinkling and laughing and irresistable.

My mother, my _mum_ , Yoon Jeonghan. How can I express my love for you? I feel like I’m going crazy holding in this love because it’s something I can’t even admit to. You don’t even acknowledge me. You let me take you to bed, even then you won’t even look at me.

The thought turns my stomach, twisting it layer by layer until the nausea is too much and I turn to the trashcan to vomit.

Soon, I smelled the familiar scent floating beside me.

“Gyu-ah, are you alright?” Jeonghan asked, his voice full of concern as he squatted down.

“Gyu-ah, are you alright? What’s wrong?” He tenderly asked again. It was as if he really was trying to be a perfect mother. If I asked him through my tears whether or not he loved me, right now, right here in this living room, he would definitely say it. He might even use the word _love_ but it would be the _love_ spoken to placate a child in tantrum. _Of course I love Gyu-ah, we are family._.

But what about in bed? In that sinful, dirty bed Yoon Jeonghan ignored everything except my flesh. His expression made him look like he was merely accomplishing a task. From start to finish I was diligently trying to please him but he just looked like he was enduring a burden.

* * *

Jeonghan was reading the newspaper when I walked up behind him and asked, “Don’t you like making love to me?”.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t even look up.

“It’s okay,” I scoffed. He knew these were the kind of words that could piss me off. Apart from what was necessary to keep this family together, he doesn’t seem to care about me.

That afternoon as I watched the minuscule movement of his head, the paleness of his neck and the elegant slope of his shoulders, a possibility hit me.

Perhaps Jeonghan loved Seungcheol too much. Perhaps he thought having sex with me was the only way to hold together this crumbling, tenuous relationship between step-mother and son.

I felt like a child again, words tensing inside ready to shoot out and _hurt_.

“Let me guess. You want to please Choi Seungcheol, so that is why you think its necessary to please me.”

“Why would you think that…” Jeonghan looked up innocently, expression wide and open. He used a hand to smooth the hair in front of his round eyes, “I love your father a lot, but I also love you too. Even though these types of love are different … I still love you a lot.”

It was impossible for him to not have known what I wanted to hear, but he still kept up the naive facade, leaving no room for another interpretation. What kind of love is between us? It’s barely the crumbs left from what Choi Seungcheol has taken. But even then he reluctantly scapes the scraps in a way that makes it painful for me to catch.

I just want to be a pebble beneath his feet, or a comma in the long story of his life, but he doesn’t even want to spare that kind of love, content to let me grovel at what is left over.

Why am I only just realising I cannot bare to look at Choi Seungcheol? He lets his own shameful love be exposed, basking under the same sun that blinds me. Towards my own father I am full of envy.

“Yoon Jeonghan. Mum, don’t you know?” I let it all out. “You’re like spoilt goods. You’ve rotted our household. I saw Wonwoo masturbating in the toilet calling your name. What would happen if he knew we already had sex? I think he would be scarred for life.”

Yoon Jeonghan looked at me without changing his expression, like before, like always. Then slowly, he reached out his hand and cradled my head, “There, there,” he caught my tears again, as if he had already forgiven my incomplete, deformed love.

“M- mum,” I hiccuped, “Can you love me one more time?”

“I’ve always loved you Gyu-ah,” he said in such a kind tone it sounded like he was singing a lullaby, “And Wonwoo, and Chan, and your father.”

* * *

After finalising a business deal with the assistance of Yoon Jeongyan, Choi Seungcheol took our family out to KTV to celebrate the success. Lee Chan has grown up a little and have forgotten what life used to be like, only liking whoever takes care of him. He has an easy, adaptable personality, swiftly taking a liking to the fun and playful “new mum.”

Wonwoo sang a song called, “Second Life” and was silent during the entire span of the long introduction. Suddenly, just as the lyrics started, he pushed a microphone into Jeonghan’s hand.

Unbothered, Jeonghan sang freely and his sweet voice carried the lyrics well, “If I could have a second life that is different from the one I have now // Will I be with you? // Will you be with me?” As he sang, he gazed at Wonwoo with his peaceful eyes and Wonwoo could not look away, caught in his tenderness. It was a natural duet.

I turned my head slightly to look at Jeonghan, to watch his glowing face under the dim lights. I think my whole family was watching him.

Into the darkness, I silently mouthed, “Angel.”

_“Even if the day comes when I have a second life different from this one // The only thing I can be sure of is // that I will be by your side.”_

Yoon Jeonghan. Will there be a life where I deserve you?

Even though I have withered, I am still being guarded by this rose. This love that has not yet sprouted, this dark love that has not yet seen the sun, has already strangled me but I cannot forget this puppy love. Watching them, my heart clenched painfully inside my chest and the room stifled me. All of a sudden, I felt dizzy and with all the remaining strength in my racing heart I choked out, “Goodbye my lover, goodbye my angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation note: Mingyu calls Jeonghan 「小妈」, which doesn’t have an english equivalent. The direct meaning is second wife or step-mother but the word carries a mocking and belittling tone. It’s not something you would call someone to their face so when Mingyu does the connotation is *____* because he does it so sweetly sometimes but simultaneously, it shows that he never sees Jeonghan as a mother figure, and their relationship is defined by Jeonghan’s relationship to Seungcheol.
> 
>   
> [(extended translator's notes where I yell about the fic and the process)](https://lysanding.dreamwidth.org/481.html)  
> 


End file.
